


Leniency

by protobelt



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-28 01:42:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20055973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/protobelt/pseuds/protobelt
Summary: In which your husband, whose way of life is to never back down on his word, almost does.





	Leniency

A person, if not well-versed with the world of politics or talented with the art of diplomacy, would never have the capacity to become a proper leader. In the seat of the highest rank in the political hierarchy of the state, a leader must have the wits necessary to swing a benefit in their nation's favor, the smarts to understand the logistics of diplomatic agency, and the compassion to consider the concerns of other countries despite the press of their own struggles; all traits that Naruto Uzumaki, the current Hokage, possessed proudly.

It all came to him with practice. Initially he had taken upon the mantle of Hokage to prove himself worthy of the title, as the Hokage was considered the most powerful shinobi of the village, but in the same scope came the expectations of his diplomatic prowess, how he would handle foreign affairs, distribute missions, and keep the general public's interest in mind when making any law-related decisions; and while Naruto handled most of it with grace, the learning process was terrifyingly steep, even with the unyielding assistance provided by the village advisers, who saw him more as a nuisance than a capable kingpin.

And so the toll of his work eventually and inevitably took him away from home most nights, as it was necessary for him to stay behind and fix what had been destroyed in the last war, stacks and stacks of paperwork greeting him every morning whenever he left the personal bedroom space adjacent to the office. It was hard work, but it was work that had to be done if he wanted to keep his rank and the respect he had striven so hard to obtain. This was what he wanted, wasn't it?

Sometimes- and only sometimes- Naruto felt the twist of regret tinge the purity of his intentions. He missed home. He missed his wife. His daughter. Often he would try to mend the frayed seams of his marriage with lavish gifts and handwritten letters, all of which his wife graciously accepted and thanked him for, but he knew she wasn't exactly a woman of materialism; she was the kind of person who preferred the warmth of togetherness over the cold bite of jewelry, a kiss over a ring, the corporeality of his presence over the void of his absence. After all, what purpose did diamond-encrusted necklaces serve if she spent her waking hours sitting alone in an empty house, caring for a child that _he_ had given her?

In the evenings where he _would_ come home after a particularly awful day at work, Naruto's energy reserves would have already been depleted by the day's tasks, and what little strength he had left he would use to kiss his wife goodnight before passing out on the living room couch without the basic decency of at least taking his shoes off first. She would do it for him, of course, gingerly stripping him of the clothes that he'd spent the last three days in, and she would sit by him through the night with a will that almost felt maternal, a hawk-like vigilance, kept awake by her own thoughts.

He would stay for breakfast the next day. He would ruffle his daughter's hair, tell her to be good. Then he'd kiss his wife. He would kiss her for longer than was necessary but shorter than he wanted, and in her honest eyes she held a gleam of the unwavering, unconditional love that kept their relationship from falling apart even in the face of absolute certainty. He would tell her that he would try to be home that night, and, as much as she wanted to, she couldn't find it in her heart to believe him.

And then he would leave without another glance.

But he was trying, right? It wasn't like him to back down on his vows, and that's why he always worded it so carefully, avoiding the idea of promise in lieu of simply presenting a prospect. 'I'll try to be home tonight,' or, 'We'll see if I can get off work early.' Nothing definite. Just the vague hope that catalyzed her continuous sink into the pit of loneliness.

She visited him sometimes to bring him lunch. They saw each other often, whether it was in the office or by chance when they were both outside mingling among the civilians, so they weren’t _completely_ estranged from each other, but the longing glances they shared said far more than words could. A moment alone, in private, where they could kiss and touch and cry together without the scrutiny of the public or the looming pressure of constantly being short on time- that was all they wanted, but it was a dream she found increasingly difficult to wish for.

* * *

So it comes to you as a surprise when he passes the threshold of your home that night, carrying bags of takeout food and looking as rested as ever, flushed skin red under the rainwater that soaks through his clothes. He bears a wide smile and a pair of sorry eyes when you welcome him home with a towel at the ready, patting him down as he toes his shoes and shrugs his jacket off before kissing you fiercely, deeply, and quickly, your fingers curled into the towel as your hands curl around his cheeks, and his lips are cold while yours are warm but the world seems to blur around you as the press of your mouths consumes your senses. The rain crashes loudly outside as you pull off of the kiss, a wild blush dusting over your cheeks as you glance up at the man you married.

"I'm home," he says. Cheeky. Daring. "Brought some food."

You want to laugh, but your heart pounds in your chest too painfully for you to make any light of the situation. Naruto takes this opportunity to lean in and press his lips warmly against the delicate skin of your neck, dropping the takeout curry at the stairs as he gropes firmly at the tender flesh of your chest. A quiet squeak leaves you as he sucks a hickey right under your jaw, your body sensitive from weeks of neglect, and he chuckles as he slides his hands down your waist to rest on the curve of your bottom.

"You're cute," he whispers, holding you close. Then he stops. His voice is low. Hands on the small of your back. "I'm sorry."

Droplets of rainwater drip down the back of your sweater as he hangs his head on your shoulder. His undershirt is damp, not completely soaked through, but it's warm as it hugs his skin as you hug him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck as blisteringly hot tears mix with the chill that coats your back in a tacky, sweaty mess. Naruto is a crier. He’s an ugly crier. He does it hard, and he does it loud, and he does it often. He cries because he's happy, or sad, or, in this case, remorseful and guilty and desperate, and when he cries he digs his nails into your hips and his teeth into your throat, and with his raspy voice he tells you how sorry he is for being away from home so often.

You forgive him, of course, it’s not his fault, nor is it anybody’s. The Hokage’s duty to his nation is one that requires his full attention, and is a job you can’t, and won’t, chastise him for taking. It was his dream, after all. Who are you to destroy the aspiration he’s worked so hard towards? He cries again when you tell him this, and you notice the split in his lip from where he’d worried it in between his teeth, all red and puffy just like his eyes and the bruises on his callused knuckles. Naruto calms down as you brush your thumb over the wound, of which you’re certain will heal in no time at all, but the pain in his eyes betrays the relieved smile that tugs at his lips, for it’s not a physical ache that ails him, but the ghost of one that spreads in his heart.

He kisses you again, chastely, sweetly, and gently. The taste of iron lingers on your tongue when he pulls away and picks up the takeout food before leading you into the kitchen, just like the first time you’d done after the ceremony. The memory of him in formal wedding garb flashes like a vivid photograph in your mind’s eye, and you think to yourself: He hasn’t changed at all.

You sit down at the table with him, pulling the chairs up closer to each other to the point that you’ve come shoulder to shoulder. The man laughs, placing his palms together and saying a word of thanks before digging into his dinner, and you follow suit.

Only the post-storm whistle of wind and the resulting buzz of modern electronics fill the silence as you eat; where Naruto shovels spoonful after spoonful of curry into his mouth, you pace yourself with your own meal, though mostly because you’d already had dinner a few hours prior to his arrival. It’s almost half past midnight, you note as you glance up at the digital clock that sits on top of the doorway to the kitchen. Naruto pours himself a shot of sake and looks up at the ceiling thoughtfully as he lifts the glass to his mouth.

“Hey,” he says, interrupting the silence. The downpour of rain seems to dampen when his eyes lock with yours. Blue adopts a shade of green under the shadows. “I love you.”

A burst of emotion flares out from your chest to your fingertips, and Naruto smiles as you hide your blush by pulling your sweater up over your face. He hooks his fingers around the hem of its collar and pulls it down, revealing that he’s practically inches from you, his nose almost bumping against yours, his lips dangerously, frustratingly close, curled up in the same playful smile you’ve come to associate with his natural disposition. A smile that reaches his eyes and crinkles the skin around them, that forms dimples in his cheeks- a smile you would die for, a smile that says that he would do the same for you.

Then he laughs mirthfully and kisses you again, the spicy aftershock of his curry’s sauce igniting a heat on your lips and in the pit of your stomach, a feeling so raw and visceral amplified further by the sensitivity of your unsung body. Your husband notices the shift in the air and drags his lips over to your cheek, his hooded, shadowed cerulean eyes peering into yours with a look that says, _Let's take this somewhere more private_.

* * *

He carries you bridal-style once he'd finished dinner, leaning his hip against the banister to guide him upstairs. With your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, Naruto presses a kiss onto your temple, at which you giggle in response. How refreshing it is to feel young again... unburdened by worry or responsibilities, to be carefree and blissfully ignorant...

Naruto pushes the door to the bedroom open with a foot and closes it the same way before laying you down carefully on the bed, handling you with the same gentleness as he would with a porcelain doll, as if anything beyond his subdued power could shatter your innocence, your fragility. You're almost tempted to goad him into letting loose with a teasing brush of skin or a kiss on the same sensitive spot behind his ear you just know would drive him crazy, but his warm gaze and soft smile beg you to consider otherwise.

There are a lot of traits that Naruto has that are idiosyncratic to who he is as a person, like his sea-breeze eyes and the whiskers on his cheeks, or the same shock of blond hair he was always known for and identified with. He's selfless. Determined. A little narcissistic, but everyone has their flaws. You feel his love in his kiss, his alcohol-tinted lips pressing against yours as your body sings a hymn of pleasure that reverberates deep in your bones and into his, his bandaged arm trailing from your hip to your waist, slipping underneath your sweater with a precision borne of familiarity.

He holds you like he's coming home, the light graze of his fingertips on the curves of your body proving just how accustomed he is with it as the sweep of his touch sends a shiver down your spine. And thus the rain begins to fall again; you feel the bitter, salty tears that spring from his eyes on your entwined lips, but he swallows down the choke of his regret and presses his body against yours, wanting- needing- more.

"I've missed you," he says under his breath, against your lips. Your eyes find each other. "So much."

You take his hands and lace your fingers together, holding them tight with no intention of letting go. "Me too."

Tears brim at his eyes again, but he manages to shake them off with a laugh. "I'm sorry," he apologizes, again. "Been crying a lot tonight." He laughs, but the joy gets caught somewhere in his lungs. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize," you answer, despite the lack of a question. His mind's train of thought is almost visible in his forlorn expression. _Is it really okay?_ comes one. _Am I a bad husband?_ comes another.

His eyes elude yours, but the quirk in his brows says enough. There's no use for words now. So you take action instead.

The beat of his heart is strong against yours when you pull him in for an embrace, burying your face in his clothes and breathing in his scent, fingers twisting into the fabric like the talons of an eagle in the flesh of its prey. Naruto hesitates, perhaps taken aback, but hugs you back eagerly with all the love his heart can muster.

"I don't deserve you." His voice cracks under the strain of his emotions. "How can you be so... forgiving?"

You press your lips against his cheek. "Because I love you."

He's crying again. You kiss the tears as they come. It's the culmination of several restless weeks of separation, of longing glances and brushing knuckles, of work-related stress and of societal pressure, all manifested in the vehement stream that stings his eyes and stains his cheeks, that blots the pillow and spots your clothes. You hold him close. He accepts your comfort wordlessly.

A tense string of silence holds the air taut as the weeping mess of a man in your arms slows his crying to a hiccup. You card your hands through his short hair and press a kiss on his forehead, rubbing soothing circles into his back as he sniffles and stutters.

"That feel better?" you ask. He nods his head, wiping his eyes on your sweater. Normally, you'd be offended by this, but for now you decide to let it slide. Maybe tell him off about it tomorrow. But not now.

"I love you," he says. He knocks his forehead with yours, but his eyes evade you once again.

You take his face in both hands and pinch his cheeks lightly. "I love you, too." He looks up at you and finally, finally gives you a smile. "Idiot," you add, as an afterthought. His smile grows wider.

“Joke’s on you,” he says with a grin. “You married me.”  
“So I did.” You nip his cheek playfully. “Can’t say it was the best decision of my life...”

His expression falls, and his heartbeat falters for a moment. You kiss the corner of his lips.

“But I wouldn't trade you for the world. You're the best husband a girl could ask for.” The corner of his lip on which you've lain your own upon quirks up shakily. His breath fans down your collarbone, warming you in a way a simple flame cannot. Naruto smells like alcohol. Like rain. Like earth. Like home.

"Well, I, for one," he begins, then takes you by the waist and heaves you up to lay on top of him. You hold yourself up on his chest, giggling as his fingers sink into your flesh. "Sure am glad that I married the right woman. Even if she's a little baby sometimes."

You giggle, like a baby. Naruto then pulls you forward for another kiss, although this time it's a little less virginal in nature and a little more salacious; the kind of kiss that you wouldn't want your children to see, full of clicking teeth and swirling tongues, all topped off with the grinding of hips and the groping of skin; weeks and weeks of nothing but abstinence, finally breaking in this one fateful night after both of you had spent so long cooped up in your own worlds that even the subtlest of obscenities overwhelms you.

Naruto’s hips buck into yours, and for a moment your body goes catatonic as it attempts to process the distant, but familiar feeling of his heated length against your thigh. It’s been so long. Too long. In hasty desperation you grind your hips together, and underneath you, you see Naruto in pure, unbridled debauchery, his face, the true apotheosis of everything you consider sexually appealing.

"You're..." he sighs, chest heaving, "so hot."

You laugh and bite your lip. “What is it, really? Am I cute or hot?" His body quivers under you. "Either way, thanks.”

Breathlessly, he takes your waist in both hands and cants his hips up, the outline of his dick pressing hotly against the cotton of your underwear, a feeling that releases an unadulterated moan from your lips and a flurry of sparks behind your eyelids. Naruto laughs as you cover your mouth with one hand and struggle to hold yourself up with the other, but he's quick to help you with your dilemma as he hoists you up and lays you on your back on the other side of the bed with an evident hunger that calcifies itself in the roughness of his hands and in the heat of his kiss.

What little restraint he had practiced earlier is now discarded and forgotten, just like the clothes he hurriedly sheds from your bodies as the boil of desire overtakes his subconscious until the slick slide of your skin against his is the only thing he's aware of. In his cognizance he learns two things: One is that rainwater on fabric doesn't particularly smell good after it goes damp. Second is that inebriation intensifies the pleasure of sex; perhaps a side effect of the alcohol that turns his skin all tingly and sensitive- or maybe it was just the month-long detachment from his wife that burned the image of her bare form in the back of his mind every night, keeping him up past witching hour in uncomfortable irritation and vague arousal. Naruto, in lustful haste, decides that it was both, and dives in to produce another hickey on your collarbone.

"Both," he says. His fingers hook around the garter of your underwear, and the cool air of the chilly night soothes your burning skin as he finally unveils you in shameless exposure, his reddened cheeks warm against your thighs as he snakes down lower, and lower, and lower.

In all honesty, you had not expected the sudden return of your husband that night, and thus, had not prepared accordingly. You cover your face with your hands in latent embarrassment as he smooths his fingers over the nest of pubic hair that covers your mound, slowly easing your legs open with a gentle nudge of his shoulder. Impatience seems to be a thing that comes with his intoxication, it seems, as he quickly presses the flat of his tongue against your slit, and begins to eagerly eat you out with a bright enthusiasm that puts the sun to shame.

As much as you appreciate his fervor, his eagerness to rush into the thick of the fray sloughs off part of the eroticism you so desperately crave- the slow touches, the deep kisses, the rite of marking one another with bruises... The sensual aspect. The slow burn that leaves the both of you in a choking air after every breath. Naruto's tongue presses into you as his hands grasp at the back of your knees, lifting your legs up to bend you at the waist; a vulgar, incriminating position that curls your toes in humiliation but heats your skin in carnality.

You understand his plight, however. It’s been weeks since you’d last gotten intimate with him, and with the stress of maintaining literally everything in the village, you’re surprised that his frustration hasn’t reached its tipping point yet. (You’re very much aware of how it looks like. You don’t really want a repeat of it.)

Although the strain of having your knees pressed up to your chest is almost painful, Naruto’s ardent passion makes up for it. He focuses on your clit with his tongue as he slides two fingers inside your wet slit, and though your natural juices already serve as sufficient lubrication, the vice of your walls squeezes tightly around the intrusion. So you lay there, writhing, as he continues his merciless onslaught, his commitment to pleasing you almost enough to push you to the brink of climax on its own, but before you could reach down and grab his hair in warning, he pulls off with a wet pop and licks a stripe up the back of your thigh, wiping your own release against the skin of your other (much to your annoyance).

He puts your legs back down slowly and shimmies his way up to lay next to you, the glimmering sheen of your own wetness coating his lips and chin like a newborn who doesn’t quite know how to eat yet, but he’s smiling at you with the widest grin and the softest eyes as he nonchalantly wipes the mess off on the back of his hand.

“I got carried away,” he says, chuckling, out of breath. “I forgot that this-” Naruto pulls you close, kissing you deeply, and snakes his hand between your legs. “-Is how you like it.”

There’s a slow shift in the air, like a bated breath, the slow stop of a fan’s whirring blades, the moment before a ceramic sculpture hits the ground, where everything seems to... stop. Your body’s pressed up against his so closely together that not even a drop of sweat could escape, and in this tension he kisses you again, and again, and again; it makes your head spin, your heart race, and your loins flare, evident in the little mewls and feather-light sighs that he swallows up keenly.

He rolls you onto your back but he makes no move to ravish you again, instead he traces the lines of your curves with the ghost of his touch, almost there, but not quite. You continue to kiss, his lips now devoid of alcohol and instead tinted with the naturally sweet taste of his saliva mixed with the tangy pang of your juices- it’s a clean kiss, and you shiver as his tongue slides with yours expertly, his long lashes brushing with yours as his eyes flutter close.

The bed creaks as he shifts, his clothed erection pressing against your hip as he slides his fingers down in between the lips of your pussy, the preexisting wetness giving him leeway to push inside, causing your legs to fall open a little wider, head lolling lazily to the side as he breaks from the kiss to catch his breath. You pant into his skin as he starts pumping his fingers in and out, his breath puffing across your neck as your fingers twist into the pillow, a choked cry catching in your throat as his thumb starts circling slowly around your clit.

And so the first orgasm of the night bursts in your body like the vitriolic torrent of a river through a broken dam. You moan unabashedly, back arching off the mattress as the tingle of pleasure spreads through your chest to the tips of your fingers, heartbeat racing as Naruto kisses you through it, consuming every gasp and moan you give him as his fingers pull out and massage around the tender flesh of your labia.

"Good girl," he whispers against your lips. You peer at him through lidded eyes, and you find him smiling at you with the same wholehearted love that forms lumps in your throat and spawns butterflies in your stomach, gentle and soft. He kisses your cheek, brushes off the sweat that beads at your hairline, and wraps his arms around you in a tight hug. Sighing into your hair, he gives you some time to find your bearings because he knows, and you know, that the night isn't quite over yet.

When your breathing slows down to its normal cadence, you hoist yourself onto your side, leveraging yourself on one elbow as you try to push Naruto down onto his back. With the difference in strength, however, he remains still, looking up at you with a questioning furrow in his brow.

"Just lie down," you say, almost pleadingly. He closes his mouth in resignation and succumbs, lying flat on his back as you sit up properly on the bed.

Now, it isn't often that you give him oral. It hurts your jaw and always leaves a bitter taste on the back of your tongue afterwards, and the first time you voiced your intense dislike for the whole act Naruto had told you not to do it anymore. It made you feel a little guilty, seeing as a quick blow is probably the quickest way to relieve him of his sexual frustration, and a handjob isn't really as satisfying, so it all came down to pure sex when things got dirty, because Naruto would rather savor the pleasure in one night session than receive bouts of release intermittently over the course of several days. It sharpens the vividness of an orgasm when you abstain for long enough before it.

His hands find your cheek when you settle down between his legs.

"Are you sure?" he asks, though you can see his excitement evident in the dancing lights in his eyes, and, of course, the straining erection that threatens to rip through his boxers.

You nod, smoothing a palm over the promising V of his hips. His breath turns shaky for a moment. Then he chuckles.

"You never swallow." Naruto shoots you a lopsided grin as he brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"Then I'll take that as a challenge," you retort, mirroring his smirk. He, in turn, simply lets his head fall back on the pillow, but continues to observe you from up above in silent anticipation.

You start by pressing your nose against the harsh curve that outlines the bright orange fabric of his underwear. This earns you a sharp gasp from the man who is completely at your mercy. You - 1. Naruto - 0.

"What's wrong?" you ask, pouting as you palm around his length, but not quite _on_ it. An agitated tick in his eye throws you off a bit, but as the psychological game of chess continues, you remain steadfast in your unbeatable tactic.

_Just put my fucking cock in your mouth_, his eyes say, but his lips remain motionless. You press your cheek against it, popping your tongue out playfully but making no move to give his dick the physical touch it wants. Naruto’s hips buck into your face, and you laugh, scrunching your nose up in the same way you always do when you want to look cute. He’s getting frustrated now. You can tell. It sings victory in your heart.

“Don’t get too excited, babe,” you mumble. Placing your nose against his length, you take a deep breath and inhale the musky scent of his groin, going slack-jawed to breathe hot air that intensifies through the fabric of his boxers. Naruto groans with an undertone that almost makes him sound like he's in pain, and at this point, he might as well be.

You decide to give him what he wants. He had waited so long. It would be a crime to dangle his prize on a string right in front of his face.

On the skin around his hips you find where his tan lines end, framed neatly with the texture of his boxers' garter and the smattering of light-haired, curly pubes. His cock springs out, almost hitting you in the face, but it stands proud and upright, fueled by pure arousal. You can almost see the veins pumping.

Your heart almost stops. Reaching out, you wrap your dainty little fingers around the base, giving it an experimental stroke as you try to comprehend just exactly how this monstrosity managed to fit inside you in all those private sessions you've had before. Determination courses through your veins. You aren't going to let him win.

Naruto's hips tremble under your weight, but his resolve remains steady. This prompts a wave of tenacity to ripple through your body- you're going to make him beg, even if it costs you your own dignity. It makes you feel a little guilty to string him along with your game after weeks and weeks of waiting, but he’ll live.

"You're so _big_, Hokage-sama," you coo. His cock throbs painfully in your hand. "I don't think I could fit this all in my mouth..."

A soft groan slips past his throat, but he laughs huskily, desperately. “C’mon, babe, don’t tease me like this...”

Score. He’s slowly coming undone under the press of your feminine appeal, and never had you ever felt more powerful than you do now. To have the Hokage trembling and whimpering with his cock right up in your face- it’s exhilarating, and perhaps, even refreshing enough to strip down the little bundle of contempt you’ve been holding towards him for basically abandoning you to a fine dust. You forgive. You forget.

So you tip your head sideways, slotting the length of his dick between your lips, and you place an array of kisses along the heated skin, from the base to the head and right back down to his hips, laving your tongue over the flesh of his hipbone. He’s silent all throughout, but he encourages you further with a gentle tug of his fingers through your hair. You look up at him and lock eyes momentarily before stroking his cock with a hand that can’t even go around it all the way, murmuring words of praise into his skin as if he’s some kind of deity. A loving wife. A pious follower.

Naruto almost slams his hips into your face when you finally decide to wrap your lips around the curved head of his cock, your wet lips and dexterous tongue, along with the precum that pools in the slit, acting as easy, convenient lubrication for your silent sin. To think that you’d be giving him head just after he’d cried his heart out. You almost feel like you’re taking advantage of him, but you know it’s what he wants, too. His hunger is apparent in the vein that pulses angrily under your tongue, in the minute tick in his eye, in the desperate hold he has on your hair- and you give him what he wants. After all, what would you get out of playing this game of stoicism, in the end?

He wins, again.

The sight of his body gyrating is one that you almost feel is too lewd to even look at. His chest heaves with every breath he takes, and the little pooch of his dad bod stomach flexes as he tries his hardest to hold himself back. You’re only a little past halfway through his length when you feel the tip hit the back of your throat, triggering a sheen of tears over your eyes as the pain of being short on breath weighs heavy on your lungs. A distraught cry catches in your throat, and Naruto pulls you off quickly to let you breathe.

“Are you okay?” he asks worriedly, sitting up as he holds your face gingerly in his hands. You cough into a fist, squeezing your eyes shut to soothe the stinging tears that bead on your lashes.

“I’m sorry,” you reply. You force one eye open and look up at him through the blur of your tears. “I think I went a little too fast.”

Naruto chuckles and wipes off the saliva that trickles down your chin with his wrist. “It’s okay. You don’t have to.”

“But I wanna,” you whine, pouting as you deflate, sagging into his lap as he settles back down into the pillows.

“It’s okay. Come up here.”

You obey his command, climbing your way up until you meet him face to face, his warm breath mixing with yours as he smooths his palms down your sides.

“I’ll try again later,” you offer promisingly. He runs his fingers through your hair, looking more exasperated and concerned than anything, but the hard length that presses up against your ass is enough indication of his still present arousal.

He’s breathless. “You don’t have to,” he says again as he slants his lips against yours. “I just- ah...”

You poke your tongue out teasingly as you rub up against the hard rod that sits on the gentle under-curve of your ass. “Yeah?”

“I...” His nails dig deep into the flesh of your hips. “Hn...”

“Let me...” you begin, reaching behind you to hold his rock-hard cock still as you position yourself over it. “Give you a hand over there, yes?”

“Yes,” he breathes, mouth hanging agape as you lower yourself onto him. His eyes close as he slides in inch by painful inch, fingers gripping at your flesh, his face unbetraying of the pure bliss that unfurls in a coil of heat in his chest to the tips of his veins.

It's a tight fit, you admit, but you manage to fit all of him somehow. He's out of breath as you let your body acclimate to his length, his eyes, half-lidded, gazing up at you like you're the first star of the night in a clear unpolluted evening. You feel his chest rise and fall with his breathing. His heart races. So does your own.

You kiss him as you brace yourself on his shoulders, using his body as leverage to keep your grip steady as you lift your hips up, the tight walls of your pussy clinging onto him like a vice, and then push yourself back down. A few minutes pass as you rock your hips with his, and your heart thrums happily with every gentle moan and cute whimper that escapes him, all in the grand scheme of him giving into you just like how the ocean swallows the sand.

"I love you," he says, pulling you down for another kiss. And another kiss. And another. "I love you."

"I love you," you say back. Fully. Wholeheartedly. "I love you."

His hips jerk up, sending a sharp jolt through your spine. You cry out, nails digging into the taut muscle of his shoulders, and fall onto his chest as he meets your thrusts with his.

"You feel so good," he says in your ear, hands resting at the base of your spine, "good girl," he adds with a breath, then bites down on your shoulder to stifle his groan as he holds you close, the tender meat of your ass slapping against his thighs as he bottoms out with every thrust.

A dull ache forms in the pit of your stomach as you suck a hickey under his jaw, almost in the same spot as he had done with you earlier. The constant press of his cock against your cervix draws you closer to your second climax, but Naruto slows his thrusts to a languid, almost lazy, but steady pace.

You're kind of grateful, despite the fact that he'd basically blueballed you. Coming a second time so quickly after the first would have been a one way ticket to sleep town, and giving him a total of one (or worse, zero) orgasms this night would remain as a heavy weight, and a constant reminder of guilt on your conscience the next day.

He laughs, sweet and airy. It's music. It's glory. Then, without pulling out, he carefully maneuvers you onto your back, and you hold onto his shoulders for dear life even though you know he won't ever drop you. He kisses you as he lowers you down onto the soft cloud of your mattress, caressing your face with one hand as the other holds your hip steady while he circles his hips, swirling your insides as your legs subconsciously come up to wrap around his waist.

You choke back a moan, biting on your knuckles as he resumes his normal pace. "N-Naru," you sob, eyes blinking back tears as he bumps up against the sensitive, elusive bundle of nerves that shocks you senseless.

“That’s it,” he says, laughing breathlessly. You grab onto his forearms as he angles his hips up to hit that same spot with his every thrust. “Good girl, s-so fucking _tight_...”

He kisses you sloppily, tongue dancing carelessly on your parted lips as his hips adopt a more frantic, rushed rhythm, hands reaching out to squeeze your breasts affectionately, kneading and pinching and rubbing while he fucks you with reckless abandon. Your name is on his lips as his is on yours, and in your heat-driven lovemaking you lock eyes with him; honest, true, and pure, blue eyes whisper silent secrets unto your skin.

"I-" he chokes out, pressing his forehead against yours. His hips fall out of step momentarily, but he regains his former pace, relentlessly pounding into you with a vigor you wouldn't normally expect out of a thirty-something year old man who spends most of his waking hours sitting in an office. In his thrusts and in his teeth you feel his hunger, his regret, and his frustration simultaneously, but in his eyes you see the smidgen of tranquility, like a calm stream, or the wind blowing gently through an empty forest.

The tip of his cock strikes your cervix again, drawing out a yelp from your lungs. You cry out his name, nails raking down the sides of his back as he continues to piston his hips into yours, his sweat mixing with yours as the ardor of your passion humidifies the air around you.

"Naru," you manage to whimper, tugging at the short hairs at his nape in warning. "I- ah, fuck, I'm close..."

He growls, and the vibration sends a wave of absolute pleasure to your core. A low groan resounds low in his ribs. "Yeah," he breathes, skimming his dry lips over the soft skin of your cheek. His words are practically in your ear, and through his raspy voice you receive your atonement. "You like that? You like it when I fuck you like this?"

So he wants to play _that_ game, huh?

"Yeah," you breathe back. Your linked ankles push at the small of his back, urging him further. "You're so _big_, Hokage-sama-"

"Fuck."

Score, again. You grin, giggling through a bit lip. How he manages to sustain his robust rhythm you can simply pin on his monstrous stamina, but his seemingly inopportune speech deficiency is definitely something out of place. Normally, Naruto would be running his mouth about how good you feel, or how tight you are, or how lewd you sound, but tonight, he's just a complete blabbering mess, silent, save for the occasional quiet groan or prolonged breath. Almost as if he's letting you take the reins for once.

And so you do.

"You feel so good," you say encouragingly. You reach down and grab his ass as he continues to thrust his cock into you without any sign of wavering at any horizon. "Ah- it feels like heaven when you- ah, Naru-" Your words fizzle out for a second. "Fuck- just, fuck me, please-"

"Oh, I will," comes his only warning, before he picks up the pace once more, lifting your hips up from the bed to reach even deeper, his balls slapping firmly against your ass with the force of his every thrust. An almost pained-sounding cry slips out of your throat as he bends you double, hooking your legs over his shoulders, lips locking with yours as the final stretch of the first round of the night approaches around the corner.

"I'm-" You stab your fingernails into the flesh of his shoulder. "Naruto, I'm close, I'm so close..."

"Come," he says, but before you can even utter another word, the flare of your climax interrupts your train of thought, unfurling in a heated, blissful explosion as your walls squeeze down on Naruto's cock. He fucks you through your orgasm, the veins of his length sliding rigidly against the ridges of your insides, your now over-sensitive pussy convulsing around him as he chases his own release.

You brush your fingers over his hairline, placing a gentle, contrasting kiss on his forehead as he wraps his arms around your torso while he pounds away, breathing shakily through quivering lips. "Inside," you whisper into his ear. His grip around your chest tightens.

"A-Are you sure?" he whispers back, his pleading eyes looking into your own. You nod, stroking his hair, and answer with a simple, serene smile.

A low groan and a tender kiss are your only form of warning as he slams his hips against yours once, twice, thrice, and finally, with a harsh bite on your lower lip, he spills his seed deep inside you, filling you up as his cock pulses intensely with every wave of pleasure that resonates shallowly in his skin and deep in his bones.

You lay still for a few moments, letting the post-coital euphoria wash over the both of you as the night air soothes your simmering bodies back to its normal temperature. Naruto pulls out eventually, and he slowly helps you put your legs back down, your hips bruised and strained from being locked in a somewhat uncomfortable position for so long.

The bed creaks under his weight as he falls onto his back next to you. He turns his head in your direction, smiling widely as he pulls you close.

"You okay?" he asks. You try not to make a big deal about the weird feeling of his spunk seeping out from between your legs.

"Yeah," you answer. "I'm good." He rubs your shoulder, over a bruise that somehow magically appeared there during your little session. "Very good."

He chuckles. "Good."

The sheets can wait for tomorrow to get washed. For now, you cuddle up next to your husband, settling in snugly in his arms, and sigh wistfully as he pulls the covers over your shoulders. It's never really a good idea to forgo the after-sex shower and bathroom break, but you're tired, and so is he, so whatever the comeuppance is to befall you the next day, you'll just have to deal with them then.

"I'm staying home tomorrow," he says, his thumb rubbing circles into your arm.

"Are you?"

"Yeah."

You smile, eyes fluttering shut as the tendrils of sleep snake around your conscious. "I'll hold you to that."

"It's a promise. I never back down on my promises."

"Mhm. Yeah." You sigh again, smoothing a palm over his bare chest. "Go to sleep, Naruto."

"I'll be with you still, in the morning."

"I know you will."

"Good night."

"Good night."

**Author's Note:**

> not enough nsfw nart out there idgi hes so cute and hes. the main character. why.  
writing this was a labor of love & it was worth it


End file.
